Gladiators Of Hapanu

Chapter 5

Thanks largely to Blade, none of the Fak'si had so much as a scratch, even those who'd gone for an unexpected swim in the Yellow River. All of them wanted to get home, and none of them wanted to run the slightest risk of being caught out on the river by nightfall and more Horned Ones. So the paddlers settled down to their work, chanting steadily as their paddles bit into the water. The canoes shot downstream as if they'd been propelled by outboard motors.

By early afternoon the paddlers were saving all their breath for their work and the chanting stopped. Somehow the rhythm remained unbroken-a little slower, perhaps, but otherwise unchanged as far as Blade could tell. By now that rhythm must be in the muscles and nerves of every paddler, so deep they didn't need the chanting to keep to it.

When a man in their canoe started swaying drunkenly, Swebon took over his paddle. The next time a man began to sway, Blade offered to take his place, but the chief shook his head.

«There is no need for you to work-not today.» After a moment, Swebon added, «Also, you are not used to our canoes and our ways with them. You might slow us down, and that would not be good. My men will not be angry with one who has saved them from a Horned One. They will not be grateful, though, if you keep us from getting home tonight.»

«Very well,» said Blade, appreciating Swebon's tact. «But I admire your canoes and your ways with them. I would learn more of both.»

«In time you shall,» said Swebon. Then he turned back to his paddling.

About mid-afternoon the canoes swung around a last bend in the Yellow River and came out on a larger stream. Everyone was streaming with sweat, and several men were lying in the bottoms of the canoes, fighting for breath. Swebon called a temporary halt, and the canoes drifted on the slow current of the new river while everyone drank. When the water jugs were empty, they were filled with river water and poured over the exhausted men.

«Is this what you call the Great River?» Blade asked Swebon.

The chief laughed. «You have not seen the Great River, or you would not ask that. On the Great River you could barely see the far bank from here. We would never let the canoes drift, either. It would take them in its jaws and crunch them like a Horned One taking a man.

«No, this is only the River of the Fak'si.» He looked up at the sky, squinting to judge the sun's distance from the western horizon. «If our strength holds, we shall be home before nightfall.»

The current of the Fak'si River was slower than the Yellow's, so the paddlers had to work harder to maintain the same speed. In spite of this, the knowledge that they were getting close to home seemed to give the men the strength they needed. The canoes glided steadily onward. As the sun dipped below the treetops, they passed the mouth of a small stream and all the paddlers stopped to cheer.

«We are now within the Home Trees,» explained Swebon. «Nothing can keep us from reaching the village tonight, unless the river itself goes dry.»

The river flowed on, the paddles splashed steadily, and as darkness fell Blade saw a yellow glow on the right bank ahead. The canoes swung toward it, the paddlers shouted and were answered from the bank, and more torches flamed into life. As they did, Blade got a good look at a village of the Fak'si.

He knew at once that these people lived all their lives in constant danger from floods, and took great pains to protect themselves. At least half the houses of the village might more accurately be called houseboats. They were huts of leaves and grass tied over reed frames, resting on light platforms balanced across two or three large canoes. Long ropes tied the canoes at the bow and stern to the trunks or exposed roots of trees on the bank. The houseboats could rise and fall with the river-or if the Fak'si wished, they could be untied and paddled off down the river to some place entirely new.

On land some of the huts were actually perched in the trees, if they could be called «huts» at all. They were more like canopies of leaves, tied in place over platforms of logs. Rope ladders or wooden stairs led from the platforms to the ground, and women and children were scrambling down them to greet the returning hunters.

Other huts were raised high off the ground by complicated frames of logs and reeds. The frameworks also served as pens for the village livestock. Blade saw animals and birds scurrying around inside them. The only buildings at ground level Blade saw were simple tents of leaves or open stockades for more livestock. Everything meant to hold human beings could either rise with the river or stay completely out of its reach.

Swebon rose in the bow of the canoe and waved to the people on the bank. All of them, men, women, and children alike, waved back and a few shouted greetings. Swebon commanded them to silence and began telling the story of the hunting party's adventures. When he got to Blade's battle with the Horned One, he pointed at Blade and motioned the Englishman to his feet. Blade obeyed cautiously, realizing his legs were cramped from sitting all day. He didn't want to spoil Swebon's story by falling overboard in the middle of it!

Swebon finished his praise of Blade, and the people on the bank broke into wild cheering that drowned out the last few words of Swebon's story. There was nothing for the chief to do except stand, pointing at Blade and waiting for the din to subside. When it did, he signaled to the paddlers and the canoe glided forward until Swebon could leap from the bow onto the deck of one of the houseboats. Several old men threw ropes to the men in the canoes, and several more grabbed Blade by the arms and dragged him onto the houseboat. As his feet touched its deck, the cheering started again.

All day Blade had wondered if Swebon might be exaggerating the qualities of Blade's feat against the Horned One. The creatures were formidable, but the Fak'si weren't exactly weaklings. Also, Swebon was obviously a tactful man who wouldn't be above telling a few white lies to make a stranger feel welcome.

This cheering now suggested that Swebon had been telling the truth. Blade was a hero to the Fak'si. He grinned broadly at the cheers, but his feelings were mixed. Starting off as a hero wasn't entirely a blessing. It helped keep spears out of his back, as well as giving him more freedom of movement. On the other hand, it tended to make people expect a miracle from him every Thursday. When he couldn't produce the miracle, disappointment could spread and tempers grow short.

However, for the moment Blade was safe from everything except being trampled to death by the Fak'si greeting him. As he stepped off the houseboat everyone in the village rushed toward him, in such a crowd that a few people were pushed into the river. Fortunately none of them were hurt and all of them could swim. By the time they'd pulled themselves out of the water, Swebon's voice and fists were clearing a path for Blade.

Keeping close behind the chief, Blade strode up the main path winding through Four Springs village. The people let him pass, but as he did they reached out to touch him. All the men tried to pat his hair, and some of them were bold enough to try pulling out handfuls of it. Blade winced, told himself that hair must have some religious significance among the Fak'si, and managed not to punch any of the hair-pullers in the jaw. When he reached the top of the path, he still ran his hands through his hair to make sure he hadn't been plucked entirely bald.

At the top of the path stood three large trees growing so close together that their branches were intertwined. In those branches the Fak'si had built a positive mansion among treehouses-seven platforms, some of them completely enclosed, each of them at a different level and all of them linked by light bridges of something like reddish bamboo.

«This is my house,» said Swebon. «The farthest of the roofs-«he pointed «- is for the use of honored guests of the chief. To get to you, an enemy must pass not only me, but the men who watch in my house.»

«I am honored, Swebon,» said Blade. «But I do not think I need fear much from the Fak'si, at least tonight.» He was tempted to add, «Except having my hair pulled out by the roots.»

«Perhaps not,» said Swebon. «But let us do you the honor you deserve for one night at least. After that you can sleep under the chief's roof, on the ground, or on the topmost branch of a kohkol tree if you wish.»

«Very well,» said Blade. The chief led him up an actual flight of steps, carved into the foot-thick bark of the largest of the three trees. Then they made their way from platform to platform, deeper into the branches.

On the third platform they found a tall man lying across the middle of it, head raised on one hand and the other hand lying across a spear. The man was about the same size as Swebon and looked like a slightly younger and much worse tempered version of the chief. Possibly the bad temper wasn't natural-one thigh was heavily bandaged. The expression on his face still made Blade look at him carefully-and then wish he had a spear of his own.

«Hail, Swebon,» said the man. «So this is the one they all cheer.»

«They should cheer him, Guno,» said Swebon. «So should you. You know what he has done, or if you do not, I will tell you.»

«I know what he has done.»

«Then why did you not come to meet us on the path?» He pointed to Guno's thigh. «There is pain in it, I know, but-«He broke off and said only, «It would have been good for you to come down and join us in honoring Blade.»

«I know, my brother,» said Guno, sitting up. «Blade, forgive me for this foolish wound that has kept me from doing you proper honor. I would not be your enemy because of this ill luck.»

No, but you'd gladly be my enemy for some other reason, Blade thought. «I'd better find out what it is, too. If the chief's brother became hostile while Blade was living in the chief's house, things could get awkward.

«No, certainly not. We shall not be enemies at all, if I can do anything about it,» said Blade. He gripped Guno's outstretched hand and patted his hair with the other hand, then let Guno do the same. After that Swebon led Blade on to the next platform.

It seemed that they'd been wandering among the branches for an hour when Swebon finally stopped at the end of a narrow bridge. At the far end was a platform completely enclosed in a beehive-shaped tent of leaves. Through a gap in the leaves Blade could see a small fire burning on a stone slab in the center of the platform.

«There is your place, Blade,» said Swebon. «Food and drink are already there. Is there more that you wish? A woman, water, fish, or sticks to honor your gods, flowers-?»

Blade shook his head. «I would be greedy to ask the Fak'si for more tonight. I will pray to my gods tonight, but I can do that alone.» He pretended to hesitate. «I would also like to join the prayers of your warriors and hunters. By the laws of the English I am allowed to do this when I travel. If the laws of the Fak'si permit me…?» It was always possible to win friends among a people by joining in their religious rites.

Sometimes you could pick up important information as well.

«I understand,» said Swebon. «I am sure you may join in some of our sacrifices to the Forest Spirit. The priests must say which ones, though.»

«Of course,» said Blade.

«Then be at peace this night, Blade, friend of the Fak'si,» said Swebon. He patted Blade's hair, then turned away as Blade crossed the bridge to his sleeping quarters for the night.

Apparently the Fak'si were going to start honoring Blade by stuffing him like a Christmas turkey. Wooden plates and bowls were laid out on the floor all around the fire, along with wood-plugged gourds and bulging leather sacks. Blade sat down and started his meal.

There was fruit, porridge, and stews of leaves, roots, and herbs. There were several kinds of fish and two kinds of meat, one tasting rather like pork and the other tasting like nothing Blade had ever eaten or wanted to eat. He stuck to the pork. There were several kinds of fruit juices, two of them fermented until they were almost wine, and an overflowing sack of sour beer: There was enough food and drink for three men as hungry as Blade was, with enough left over for a few midnight snacks. When Blade lay down to sleep, he'd eaten all he could hold and drunk as much as he thought was safe.

His bedding was a thick mat of leaves held together by a net of woven-grass rope. There was a smaller pad for a pillow, but nothing like blankets. In this damp heat they were hardly needed. There were no insects inside the shelter. Blade noticed that some of the leaves woven into the walls had a peculiar odor, rather like overripe lemons. He wondered if they acted as a sort of bug repellant.

Blade moved his sleeping mat to the side of the shelter farthest from the door. Now the whole width of the shelter and the litter of empty dishes on the floor lay between Blade and any possible intruders. Anyone who barged in during the night was certain to make enough noise to wake him. Even if he couldn't fight, he could always break through the wall and drop to the ground. The woven leaves were no tougher than light cloth and the drop to the ground was less than fifteen feet.

Blade trusted Swebon, and perhaps Swebon's guards would do their duty. But if Swebon let his brother Guno live in the chief's house, and if Guno already saw Blade as an enemy or at least a potential rival- It might not be tactful to repay Swebon's friendship with suspicion, but Blade would rather be tactless than dead.

With this thought in his mind, he stretched out, rolled on to his side, and fell asleep.

Blade's instincts brought him awake, and his fighter's reflexes kept him motionless on his sleeping pad. The fire was dead and inside the shelter was utter blackness, but Blade knew he hadn't been fooled. There was someone in the shelter with him, standing by the door. He continued to lie still and resisted the temptation to challenge them. If he stayed quiet, they were likely to have more trouble finding him than he would have finding them. No doubt the Fak'si could hear and see in the dark much better than any civilized man, but so could Richard Blade.

The silence dragged on, broken only by the night birds and insects and by the faint scrape of the intruder's feet on the floor. He seemed to be a small person, moving slowly and cautiously around the edge of the shelter and only very gradually approaching Blade.

Suddenly there was a clatter of wood on wood, as the intruder tripped over a bowl and sent it rolling against another. A hiss of indrawn breath followed, then a sigh. Finally Blade heard fumbling motions, and then all at once a dim white fight filled the shelter. Blade sat up and stared at the intruder.

Like most Fak'si women, she was only a little over five feet tall and built on generous lines, to say the least. This was usually obvious even in daylight, since the Fak'si women wore only a knee-length skirt. This lady wore even less-a flower in her hair, a bracelet of grass on one wrist, and a gourd on the other hand. The gourd was filled with something luminous-perhaps a phosphorescent moss-that gave off the white light.

Blade looked at the woman more closely. At first glance the pale light on her blue skin made her look like a long-dead corpse risen from its grave. A second glance showed that she was not only young but quite attractive. Her breasts were high and firm, the large nipples barely visible against the darkness of her skin. Her waist, unthickened by childbearing, flowed down into smooth thighs. Her hair was shorter than usual among Fak'si women, but heavily decorated with bone ornaments. A reddish jewel gleamed just above her left ear. Her skin shone as if it had been oiled, and she smelled faintly of flowers.

At last she giggled and looked down at the floor. Blade realized he'd been staring at her in silence for several minutes. She sat down, folding her legs under her, and Blade laughed.

«All right,» he said. «You know who I am. Who are you, and why are you here?»

The woman laughed. «I am Lokhra. Why I am here-Blade, do you not know the ways of women?»

Blade nodded. «I see. Yes, I know the ways of women. In fact, it is not wise to ask that of a man of the English. He might think it an insult.»

«Good,» said Lokhra. «We hoped the English were that way. The warriors of the Kabi must be lovers of men for three years. We would not have been happy to find you like them.»

«Who is this 'we?'» asked Blade.

«Oh,» said Lokhra. «It is I and the other three women.»

«That doesn't tell me as much as you think,» said Blade. «Remember that I've only been among the Fak'si for two days. Most of that time I spent among the warriors and hunters. So perhaps you should treat me as a child who must be told everything.»

Lokhra wriggled across the floor to Blade and rested one soft-fingered hand between his thighs. «Blade, I do not think you are a child in all things. Or my eyes and hands are telling lies.»

«They are not,» said Blade, putting an arm around Lokhra's shoulders and resting one hand on a breast. «But I would like you to tell me the truth. You and the other three women-who are you?»

«You fought the Horned One and killed it,» she said. «When such a Horned One attacks hunters, some of them always die. The men who saw you fight the Horned One met tonight. They decided that four of them would certainly have died if you did not fight the Horned One.»

«Did they decide which four?» asked Blade.

«No. They only knew that four of them live who would otherwise be dead. Now, when a man of the Fak'si saves another, the man he saves must give him a woman for one night. The men cast the bones, and four of them were chosen to each send you one of his women. I am the first.»

«I see,» said Blade. It seemed a sensible way of showing gratitude and one he wouldn't find it at all hard to accept. While she'd been explaining why she was here, Lokhra's fingers were moving gently but steadily. Blade was finding it harder and harder to keep his mind on what she was telling him or keep his own hands from tightening on her breasts.

Now Lokhra's story was finished, and there was no more reason for Blade to hold back. He raised both hands to her shoulders and turned her until he could kiss her. Apparently kissing wasn't the most common gesture of affection among the Fak'si, because she was clumsy at first. Apparently she also had the right instincts, because the clumsiness didn't last long. Her lips turned warm under Blade's, her tongue crept out to join his, her free hand ran up and down his back. Blade found his breath coming harder, and felt Lokhra's nipples hardening against the palms of his hands.

Blade didn't know what Lokhra might expect, but he knew what he wanted, and also knew that he couldn't wait much longer for it. What Lokhra was doing to him was both marvelous and painful at the same time.

Blade released his grip on the woman, then pressed one hand against her forehead and the other against her stomach. Lokhra went over backward, wriggling sideways so that she lay on the sleeping mat. Her legs spread apart, then rose to lock around Blade.

After the excitement of what had gone before, the actual joining with Lokhra was almost a disappointment for Blade. She didn't carry him to any breathtaking, delirious heights. She didn't rise to any herself. She simply held him against her and within her until his body arched in the final spasm and all his breath went out in a choking cry. She went on holding him with his head nestled between her breasts, although most of his weight must have been on her.

She held him until he found the strength to enter her again. This time her cry echoed his own, and he felt the warm solid flesh under him writhing and twisting wildly. Again he relaxed, head between her breasts and the sound of her racing heart pounding in his ears. Again she held him until he found his strength returning. This time when they were finished he felt much too comfortable to even think of moving.

After a while Lokhra wriggled off the mat and crawled over to the remains of dinner. She returned with a gourd of fruit juice and a platter of sliced fish, then held both out to Blade. He ate and drank to please her, although he was more thirsty than hungry. When he'd finished, he reached for her again. She held him off with one hand while she held a drinking gourd with the other. She drank, and as she drank she seemed to be listening for something in the darkness outside.

Blade was beginning to get annoyed, and he was about to ask her what the devil she was doing when suddenly she jumped up. Stark naked, she walked across the shelter and pulled open the curtain of leaves which served as a door.

«Come in,» she said to the darkness outside. Three shapes moved there. Blade started to rise-then three more women were standing in the doorway. All three of them wore the Fak'si skirt, but before Blade could recover from his surprise they started pulling them off. By the time he'd recovered, the three newcomers were as naked as Lokhra.

Blade was amused at the prospect of having to satisfy three more women tonight. He also found himself looking forward to it. Lokhra was the best-looking of the four women, but the other three were hardly ugly. All were young, well-fleshed, and firm-breasted. From the way they were looking at him, they were also looking forward to the rest of the night.

Blade threw his head back and laughed, until his laughter drowned out the night sounds outside and the four women were laughing with him. Then he stood up and walked over to the first of the three newcomers.